简爱(英文版)-第112章

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　had　it　in　my　power　to　offer　her。
My　tale　draws　to　its　close：　one　word　respecting　my　experience　of　married　life；　and　one　brief　glance　at　the　fortunes　of　those　whose　names　have　most　frequently　recurred　in　this　narrative；　and　I　have　done。
I　have　now　been　married　ten　years。　I　know　what　it　is　to　live　entirely　for　and　with　what　I　love　best　on　earth。　I　hold　myself　supremely　blest—blest　beyond　what　language　can　express；　because　I　am　my　husband’s　life　as　fully　is　he　is　mine。　No　woman　was　ever　nearer　to　her　mate　than　I　am：　ever　more　absolutely　bone　of　his　bone　and　flesh　of　his　flesh。　I　know　no　weariness　of　my　Edward’s　society：　he　knows　none　of　mine；　any　more　than　we　each　do　of　the　pulsation　of　the　heart　that　beats　in　our　separate　bosoms；　consequently；　we　are　ever　together。　To　be　together　is　for　us　to　be　at　once　as　free　as　in　solitude；　as　gay　as　in　pany。　We　talk；　I　believe；　all　day　long：　to　talk　to　each　other　is　but　a　more　animated　and　an　audible　thinking。　All　my　confidence　is　bestowed　on　him；　all　his　confidence　is　devoted　to　me；　we　are　precisely　suited　in　character—perfect　concord　is　the　result。
Mr。　Rochester　continued　blind　the　first　two　years　of　our　union；　perhaps　it　was　that　circumstance　that　drew　us　so　very　near—that　knit　us　so　very　close：　for　I　was　then　his　vision；　as　I　am　still　his　right　hand。　Literally；　I　was　（what　he　often　called　me）　the　apple　of　his　eye。　He　saw　nature—he　saw　books　through　me；　and　never　did　I　weary　of　gazing　for　his　behalf；　and　of　putting　into　words　the　effect　of　field；　tree；　town；　river；　cloud；　sunbeam—of　the　landscape　before　us；　of　the　weather　round　us—and　impressing　by　sound　on　his　ear　what　light　could　no　longer　stamp　on　his　eye。　Never　did　I　weary　of　reading　to　him；　never　did　I　weary　of　conducting　him　where　he　wished　to　go：　of　doing　for　him　what　he　wished　to　be　done。　And　there　was　a　pleasure　in　my　services；　most　full；　most　exquisite；　even　though　sad—because　he　claimed　these　services　without　painful　shame　or　damping　humiliation。　He　loved　me　so　truly；　that　he　knew　no　reluctance　in　profiting　by　my　attendance：　he　felt　I　loved　him　so　fondly；　that　to　yield　that　attendance　was　to　indulge　my　sweetest　wishes。
One　morning　at　the　end　of　the　two　years；　as　I　was　writing　a　letter　to　his　dictation；　he　came　and　bent　over　me；　and　said—“Jane；　have　you　a　glittering　ornament　round　your　neck？”
I　had　a　gold　watch…chain：　I　answered　“Yes。”
“And　have　you　a　pale　blue　dress　on？”
I　had。　He　informed　me　then；　that　for　some　time　he　had　fancied　the　obscurity　clouding　one　eye　was　being　less　dense；　and　that　now　he　was　sure　of　it。
He　and　I　went　up　to　London。　He　had　the　advice　of　an　eminent　oculist；　and　he　eventually　recovered　the　sight　of　that　one　eye。　He　cannot　now　see　very　distinctly：　he　cannot　read　or　write　much；　but　he　can　find　his　way　without　being　led　by　the　hand：　the　sky　is　no　longer　a　blank　to　him—the　earth　no　longer　a　void。　When　his　first…　born　was　put　into　his　arms；　he　could　see　that　the　boy　had　inherited　his　own　eyes；　as　they　once　were—large；　brilliant；　and　black。　On　that　occasion；　he　again；　with　a　full　heart；　acknowledged　that　God　had　tempered　judgment　with　mercy。
My　Edward　and　I；　then；　are　happy：　and　the　more　so；　because　those　we　most　love　are　happy　likewise。　Diana　and　Mary　Rivers　are　both　married：　alternately；　once　every　year；　they　e　to　see　us；　and　we　go　to　see　them。　Diana’s　husband　is　a　captain　in　the　navy；　a　gallant　officer　and　a　good　man。　Mary’s　is　a　clergyman；　a　college　friend　of　her　brother’s；　and；　from　his　attainments　and　principles；　worthy　of　the　connection。　Both　Captain　Fitzjames　and　Mr。　Wharton　love　their　wives；　and　are　loved　by　them。
As　to　St。　John　Rivers；　he　left　England：　he　went　to　India。　He　entered　on　the　path　he　had　marked　for　himself；　he　pursues　it　still。　A　more　resolute；　indefatigable　pioneer　never　wrought　amidst　rocks　and　dangers。　Firm；　faithful；　and　devoted；　full　of　energy；　and　zeal；　and　truth；　he　labours　for　his　race；　he　clears　their　painful　way　to　improvement；　he　hews　down　like　a　giant　the　prejudices　of　creed　and　caste　that　encumber　it。　He　may　be　stern；　he　may　be　exacting；　he　may　be　ambitious　yet；　but　his　is　the　sternness　of　the　warrior　Greatheart；　who　guards　his　pilgrim　convoy　from　the　onslaught　of　Apollyon。　His　is　the　exaction　of　the　apostle；　who　speaks　but　for　Christ；　when　he　says—“Whosoever　will　e　after　me；　let　him　deny　himself；　and　take　up　his　cross　and　follow　me。”　His　is　the　ambition　of　the　high　master…spirit；　which　aims　to　fill　a　place　in　the　first　rank　of　those　who　are　redeemed　from　the　earth—who　stand　without　fault　before　the　throne　of　God；　who　share　the　last　mighty　victories　of　the　Lamb；　who　are　called；　and　chosen；　and　faithful。
St。　John　is　unmarried：　he　never　will　marry　now。　Himself　has　hitherto　sufficed　to　the　toil；　and　the　toil　draws　near　its　close：　his　glorious　sun　hastens　to　its　setting。　The　last　letter　I　received　from　him　drew　from　my　eves　human　tears；　and　yet　filled　my　heart　with　divine　joy：　he　anticipated　his　sure　reward；　his　incorruptible　crown。　I　know　that　a　stranger’s　hand　will　write　to　me　next；　to　say　that　the　good　and　faithful　servant　has　been　called　at　length　into　the　joy　of　his　Lord。　And　why　weep　for　this？　No　fear　of　death　will　darken　St。　John’s　last　hour：　his　mind　will　be　unclouded；　his　heart　will　be　undaunted；　his　hope　will　be　sure；　his　faith　steadfast。　His　own　words　are　a　pledge　of　this—
“My　Master；”　he　says；　“has　forewarned　me。　Daily　He　announces　more　distinctly；—‘Surely　I　e　quickly！’　and　hourly　I　more　eagerly　respond；—‘Amen；　even　so　e；　Lord　Jesus！’”


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